


Tell Laura I Love Her

by kamanzi



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:41:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4285803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamanzi/pseuds/kamanzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the early 1960s, Laura Hollis and her father move sixteen hundred miles south of their hometown and settle in what immediately appears to be sleepy, desert Squaresville. But in this city reside some choice chicks and cool cats and, most importantly, a mystery that's sure to set Laura's freshmen year of high school on its end!</p><p>Edit: Abandoned for now. Might pick up again, might not. Eh. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unchained Melody (Prologue)

“You ready, Laur?”

The slamming of the trunk door and her father’s voice broke Laura from her trance. She looked behind herself at Mr. Hollis to nod once, and then turned her head to stare back at her house, which now seemed enormous to her. She stared at the front porch and its swing, the wooden door with its little window. A stinging drizzle started to fall from the thick, gray clouds above them.

“Come on, sugar,” Mr. Hollis half-whispered as he put his hand on Laura’s shoulder. She jumped slightly, not having realized he’d approached her. “We gotta get going. It’s gonna take about seven hours to get to Medford, and I’d like to get to the motel before it’s too dark.”

“Okay.” Laura nodded again. She used the bottom of her sleeve to wipe under her eyes, turned abruptly around, and walked towards the station wagon.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t mean to rush you.”

“No, Dad, don’t worry! It’s okay!” She plastered on a smile that felt too tight. Laura wouldn’t look him in the eye though, focusing instead on opening the passenger-side door of the car. “I’m okay. I’m ready. Let’s go!”

There was a moment’s silence from her father, during which time Laura crawled into the cab and shut the door behind her. The rain, now becoming heavier, was briefly muffled until Laura’s father opened his own door. He groaned as he settled into his seat behind the wheel and closed the door behind him; the rain was once again silenced.

“Okey doke. Bye, house!” Mr. Hollis said, turning the key in the ignition. The station wagon sputtered for a moment, and then the engine roared into life. He turned around to look out the back window as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Bye, house,” Laura repeated, fake cheerily. She threw one last look at her childhood home. The various boxes in the car seemed to be moving in on her.

“And goodbye, rain,” Laura’s father laughed. “Good riddance.”

\---

Medford had been quiet. Despite what Laura’s father had hoped for, the rain pursued them all the way to the motel there and, once they re-packed to leave again the next morning, persisted for a couple hours more as they traveled south on the highway.

“Ain’t that a bite?” Mr. Hollis sighed at Laura’s noting this observation. Not that she was complaining; honestly, it came as a pleasant surprise to her. “Don’t worry though, sugar. Once we get further into California, it’ll clear up. You’ll see.”

The weather made good on his promise this time. When they pulled into Los Angeles that evening, there were few clouds remaining in the sky. The sun was setting, and Laura and her father checked into another motel.

“It’s too bad we can’t spend more time here,” Mr. Hollis grumped as they carried overnight bags up a set of stairs. “I’ll bring you back one day over some vacation. We’ll do Hollywood right!”

Whether it was the ceaseless sounds of traffic and nightlife or her anxiety over the next day—or, possibly, her dad’s snoring—Laura slept fitfully that night. Not that she’d been sleeping particularly well for a couple of months, of course, but she usually was able to rack up enough sleep to function.

The next morning, she awoke grumpy. Mr. Hollis did not.

“Today’s the day, Laur!” he rang out merrily as the engine of the car turned over. Bags and boxes were re-secured, and they hit the road anew. “We’ll be home soon!”

“Home,” Laura repeated. It was more of a soft groan than anything else, but her father took no notice.

“Soon!” he insisted. “Well, by this afternoon, at least.”

And they got there by that afternoon, just as Mr. Hollis had said. At four o’clock, to be precise, they exited the interstate for—to Laura’s intense relief—the last time for the foreseeable future and pulled into a city that was completely and utterly brown.

Although this could have been seen as revealing of the dismal future that was sure to come, it certainly did not come as a surprise to Laura. A continuous, abysmal streak of the color had persisted in the landscape since exiting southern California. Now chugging along city streets, they passed through the small downtown (dark brown), went past the university (red brown), and continued along through the suburbs (brown brown brown).

Eventually the car, its interior still crowded but now becoming especially warm, turned and bumped into a gravel driveway, coming to rest in front of an adobe-styled house. “We’re home!” Her father smiled and looked over at her expectantly. “Home, sweet home.”

Laura said nothing immediately, her gaze taking in the front yard. Rocks and dirt and burnt-looking trees, all was brown except for the sparse purple-ish cactus and the turquoise front door. The house was a one-story and small.

Not too small though. It was certainly smaller than their old house. But it seemed just right.

Her chin picked up a little. Laura turned to give a small smile to her dad. “I like it.”

“You like it?” he repeated, his eyes twinkling.

“I do, I like it! I like the door. Can we go inside?”

“Can we go inside?” he repeated again, this time his grin fitting to burst. “After you, sugar!”

Laura pushed open the car door. But before she could even swing her feet out of the cab, the heat hit her. “Geez, Louise,” she moaned, stepping gingerly onto the drive as she felt a full-body flush overtake her. The gravel beneath her feet sounded like it was sizzling as she stood. “It’s scorching.”

“Well, hey,” her dad chuckled, crawling out of his own side of the wagon and wiping his brow. “That’s August in the desert! Come on, now, let’s get the air conditioning roaring. We’ve got three units in just this house, you just can’t believe!”

As Mr. Hollis shifted through keys and shuffled up to the colorful front door. Laura took another look around the neighborhood. Brown.

But she smiled anyway. A smile that wasn’t tight or forced. Her first real smile in two months.

\---

The next day, Laura slouched over her still unpacked moving boxes. Most of her clothes were too heavy to even dream about wearing outside. She felt a pang in her heart thinking about her old house and the rainy weather she knew she’d quickly come to miss, despite what her father had told her. But as it became clearer that she didn’t have a lot of other options as far as her old wardrobe and new living situation went, Laura settled for a plain white button up—long-sleeved, but at least the material was light—and some slacks.

Laura hopped into the kitchen, attempting to sling her flats onto her feet as she went. Finally standing upright in front of her father, who was hidden behind the day’s newspaper, she cleared her throat. Mr. Hollis did not immediately respond, though the twitching of his fingers let Laura know that he’d heard her.

As she waited for him to finish reading whatever article he was in the middle of, Laura’s eyes skimmed the front page. Taking up half of the space was a large picture of a girl about her age with blonde hair; it looked like a school photo, as the girl was wearing a uniform. But before she could properly examine the headline, Laura’s father peeked out at her from behind the paper and raised his eyebrows.

“Ready?” he asked absentmindedly.

“Ready,” she confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. She then adjusted her headband, worried her head-bobbing had displaced it.

Mr. Hollis folded his newspaper in half and looked over his daughter. “You gonna be too warm?” At Laura’s nervous glanced down at her own outfit, he sighed and stood up, placing the paper on the table. “I’ll take you shopping after. Get you some hot weather clothes.”

Laura grinned and spun to follow him out of the side door of the house that led to the car port. It was late morning and already blazing hot, so she was thankful that her father was mindful enough to pull the car under the shaded roof after their initial tour of the house yesterday. Though nowhere near “cool” by a longshot, the station wagon offered at least some relief. Laura cranked the air conditioning to “high,” but the air that shot out of the vents was warm and stuffy.

“Sorry, honey, it’s gonna take a second to cool down,” Mr. Hollis chuckled, turning the dial down to its lowest setting. “Roll down your window for now, that’ll help.”

They pulled out of the car port, off of the gravel driveway, and onto the street. Mr. Hollis steered the car to zig zag through their neighborhood, turning towards where they had arrived from the day before and down past the university again. Two blocks past that Mr. Hollis took a sharp left and pulled into a parking lot in front of a two-story, red brick building. Metal letters above its front doors read: “Silas High School.”

There were no students milling around the front of the school, but it was obvious to Laura that there were plenty of them currently in classes. The parking lot was full of cars—most of them perfectly average save for a cherry red Corvette in the front row. Laura’s dad parked next to this one.

“This is it,” Laura almost whispered, taking in a shuddering breath as she surveyed the campus around the station wagon. She felt suddenly sweatier—and she’d just spent the entire ride with her window down, so Laura had been pretty sweaty to start with.

“Yuppers,” her dad groaned as he got out of the car and closed the door behind him. Laura followed suit. There was a distant din of people playing sports on some unseen field, probably on the other side of the school. “This is it. Classes shouldn’t get out for an hour or so, so the lady at the front desk shouldn’t be too busy. Let’s get you registered.” He began to walk away, and only once he was fifteen feet from the car did he turn to look for his daughter, who had remained stock-still next to the passenger side. “Laur?”

“I’m fine!” she squeaked immediately, looking from the front doors of the school to her father. At his disbelieving gaze, Laura plastered a wide, tight grin onto her face. “Sorry, Dad! I’m good! Let’s go!” She walked towards her father, taking long steps and no longer looking directly at him. But Mr. Hollis’s hand, which reached out to gently grab Laura’s shoulder, stopped her.

“Hey,” he said, abruptly stern. “You’re going to love it.” He pulled his daughter in for a hug. In spite of how much hotter it made Laura feel, she returned it gratefully. “Besides,” Mr. Hollis continued, “you don’t even start until Monday! Don’t flip your wig yet, sugar.”

“I’m probably still going to puke, though,” Laura said into his shoulder.

“Just not on your old man,” Mr. Hollis replied. He broke away from her and reached his hand out to grab hers.

“Dad!” she laughed as she pulled her hand away. “Come on!” She looked around, smiling and embarrassed, to see if anyone had seen. There hadn’t been and Laura breathed a sigh of relief. The front doors of the school slammed opened then; a girl was leaving.

“What? Too old to hold your pop’s hand?”

“A little!” Laura giggled and made a shushing gesture. She readjusted her headband and started to cross the pavement to the front doors, looking back at her father. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

She turned her head back just in time to skid to a halt. The girl who had just left the school had quickly caught up with Laura and her father and was brushing past them. Though Laura had been able to avoid a complete collision, she did end up bumping shoulders with the girl.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t—”

“Beat it, baby,” the girl hissed, now pushing sunglasses on her face. She stomped past Laura and opened the door of the red Corvette. At this point, Mr. Hollis had started walking again, so Laura jogged to catch up and followed him to the school.

“Geez,” she muttered under her breath. Her father laughed in response and reached for the front door handle.

“Ah, forget about her, that snap case. Let’s get you inside and out of the heat before you blush any harder.” The door opened, and a blast of cold air made Laura sigh and her arm hair stand on end. From behind them, an engine roared and tires squealed as they turned a corner.

\---

“That was excellent, sugar,” Mr. Hollis said with a small burp. As he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, Laura stood to collect their plates.

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied as she walked to the sink. She turned on the water, which came out already warm.

“Really, baby, I’m so proud of you. You’ll make an excellent little wife one day.” He stood to walk to the fridge and pulled out a beer, popping its cap off using a contraption on the side of the cabinet. “Just as good as your mama was.”

The water was suddenly hot, too hot. Laura pulled her hands away and turned off the sink. “I think I’m going to go to bed, I’m exhausted. Is it okay if I finish these in the morning?”

“Mm,” Mr. Hollis hummed, his lips still sipping from the bottle. He swallowed and said, “Just leave ‘em, honey, I can get ‘em!”

“Oh, okay.” Laura wiped her hands on her slacks and started to walk out of the kitchen. “Good night—”

“Wait, take your bags back to your room for me. I’ll trip on ‘em later.” Her father put his beer down on the table and stooped to pick up bags that were lined up next to the side door. Laura reached out to take them from him. “Careful, they’re heavy! I think you have enough clothes to last you until graduation now.”

Laura gave a soft, forced chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Good night, Dad.”

“Love you, honey.”

“I love you, too.”

She walked down the hallway into her bedroom and deposited her bags on the ground next to the foot of her bed, kicking the door shut behind her. Sighing, Laura side-stepped moving boxes and plopped herself onto her vanity chair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She then grabbed her school supplies list that she’d stowed in the vanity’s drawer to review it for what Laura was sure was the thousandth time. Then, having run out of ideas to keep her occupied, Laura stood again to get ready for bed.

Once she was dressed in her nightgown, she peeled back her comforter, crawled into bed, and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Laura stared at the ceiling. She usually fell asleep to the sounds of her father watching television or otherwise milling about the house. But here in her new room, she could hear nothing but the air conditioning unit that sat on the window sill.

At first she’d been glad to have a unit all her own in her room, and loved that it made her room one of the coldest in the house. But now the humming of the machine was unsettling. Laura felt like she was going deaf because she could hear nothing else. So, in spite of her knowing how hot and sweaty she’d wake up the following morning, Laura got out of bed to turn it off. The swift silence from it came as a relief, a feeling that increased as Laura was able to distantly hear her father running the sink and dishes clattering together.

But she heard something else too. It was muffled, but Laura could have sworn she heard someone yelling. She stood completely still, straining her ears to hear more. Was it coming from outside? It must have been, she would’ve clearly heard if her father had started hollering about something while inside the house.

Laura was considering grabbing Mr. Hollis and running out the front door to investigate when she heard something again, this time distinctly coming from the backyard that her bedroom window overlooked. She reached above the air conditioning unit to pull her window open, and leaned forward to get a better look outside.

She hadn’t yet explored her new backyard. Laura and her father had only gotten there the afternoon before, of course, and had been nonstop busy since. Now she scanned her gaze over it, looking for any disturbance.

There wasn’t any trouble that Laura could see. There was browning grass spanning the length of her backyard—broken only by a swimming pool and surrounding concrete—which lacked any intruders slinking across it. There were tall hedges lining the backyard fence so that Laura couldn’t see any wood poking out from behind shriveled leaves, but nor could she see the branches shaking with a hidden intruder.

Then, there it was: a yell, now clearer, that Laura realized was actually a laugh coming from beyond the hedges. It sounded like a girl at first, but then some quieter laughs joined in and Laura could no longer pick out one from another.

Laura was calmed at first, but then suddenly she wasn’t. She felt a solid mass settle behind her ribcage. Unexpectedly, Laura felt longing for rain and her old house and the high school that she’d never get to go to with the friends she would probably never see again.

She closed the window roughly and crawled back into bed. But without the whirring of the air conditioner, Laura was forced to listen to sporadic laughter and cheering until midnight. Only then did the voices die out and Laura was able to fall asleep.


	2. Swingin' School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura attends her first day at Silas High School. She's a mess and a half.

Laura awoke to her father knocking on her bedroom door at seven o’clock on Monday morning, hearing him murmur in a gentle but excited voice, “Come on, sugar. First day of school. Let’s knock ‘em dead!”

Laura would have preferred to be knocked dead herself, because the second reality set in she felt as if she might throw up. Regardless of her stomach ache, she uttered out a “Thanks, Dad” and proceeded to stand from her bed.

Saturday and Sunday had passed uneventfully and, for Laura’s taste, far too quickly. She spent the weekend days trying to distract herself from the impending panic attack she’d face on Monday by unpacking her boxes and arranging her new room, watching TV with her dad, and swimming in the pool—a novelty she wasn’t convinced she’d ever get over because she’d never known anyone to have their own pool in their own backyard before and honestly that was pretty cool.

And she spent the weekend nights sitting at her vanity—air conditioning unit and lights turned off—straining to hear something from beyond the backyard’s hedges. Maybe she’d imagined the chorus of laughter she thought she’d heard on Friday night, because ever since there had been radio silence.

But despite the lack of distraction, Laura had slept particularly poorly the night before. She felt the tiredness in her eyes and her joints as she shuffled to the standing mirror and plucked down her crisply ironed, yet-to-be-worn school uniform that hung off of it.

She dressed and appraised her reflection in the mirror. Laura was used to wearing a school uniform, but not one with short sleeves. This in contrast to the regulation gold tie that was included with the ensemble looked, well, a little ridiculous in her opinion. The plaid red and gold skirt she wore fell just above her knees, making Laura feel a bit exposed as she sat to pull on the required short, white socks—as opposed to the knee highs that had been required at her old middle school—and her brand new saddle shoes. At least at this school she could wear whatever hairdo she wanted, so as she stood back up she grabbed her headband from her vanity and smoothed it over her hair, glancing at the mirror one last time.

Eh.

Laura retrieved her book bag that sat on her vanity chair, slung over the back of which was the regulation red blazer with the Silas High School crest emblazoned on its breast. Never had she been more relieved than when she heard that these blazers were not required to be worn until November—though, the heat couldn’t possibly last that long, could it?

Her stomach ache was forgotten. At least, that is, until she opened her bedroom door, stepped out, and began to turn down the hallway. Just then her eyes were assaulted by a very bright flash. Over the sound of the accompanying shutter, Laura heard Mr. Hollis laughing. Blinking to rid her sight of dark spots, she turned to look at her father, whose face was covered by and whose finger was poised over a Kodak. “Smile, sugar!” he chortled. “Laura’s first day of high school! And in a brand new town to boot, you just can’t believe. Your mama’d be so proud of you.”

Another camera flash, and Laura raced into the—conveniently close—hall bathroom to vomit.

\---

The car ride—once again uncomfortably warm—took the vaguely familiar route back to the high school. Laura’s stomach was still churning, so she remained quiet and stared out the window at the passing scenery as her father rattled on words of encouragement.

“Now you’re starting school a week late,” Mr. Hollis stated as he drove, “but don’t be worried about not making friends or about standing out too much or catching up with school work. By the end of next week, honey, you’re gonna be just like the rest of ‘em, I swear it. Or you’ll be better!”

Laura hummed in agreement that she didn’t truly feel. But she knew that her dad still felt guilty about the puking incident—despite her assurance that it was solely the result of nerves and not his scaring her—so she was hesitant to say anything that might make him feel worse.

The station wagon bumped into the school parking lot. This time, it was teeming with activity. There was traffic throughout as students struggled to park cars and walk to the front doors, as teenagers laughed with and shouted at one another. An especially loud engine roared past Laura’s car and a motorcycle cut in front of them to get a parking spot near the front of the lot. She chuckled softly to see the boy on the bike was wearing a letterman jacket. _That’s_ not something you see every day. That kid must be _sweltering_.

“That’s the spirit,” Mr. Hollis sighed as he pulled the car up to the front curb of the school. He turned to look at his daughter, his brows creased together. “Welp, honey, there you are. I’ll pick you up at three, okay?”

Laura’s bottom felt suddenly rooted to the seat. She looked back at her father anxiously. He only let out a soft laugh and leaned across the front seat to kiss Laura’s left temple.

“Good luck, sugar.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Laura groaned as she opened the car door and reluctantly slid across the vinyl seat to step onto the curb. “Later.” She shut the door behind her, leaned forward to wave at Mr. Hollis once more through the window, and stepped back as he drove away.

As she watched the station wagon disappear from sight, the nerves hit Laura in a fresh wave. She felt as if she were soaking through her shirt and suddenly wished she had at least brought the blazer to hide any possibly pit-staining. But regardless, it was now or never: either go inside and face a fear that's been eating at her for months, or run out of the parking lot and head for the hills. With a deep breath that didn’t prove as relaxing as Laura had hoped, she turned on her heel and began to stride for the front door.

But before she could complete a step, she ran into a solid wall of person. Flailing out her arms to try to keep her balance, Laura felt a hand grab at her elbow.

“Hey, hey!” said a voice, firm but at the same time comforting. “I’ve got you, you’re fine.”

Laura, by the grace of God, managed to stop stumbling backwards and to stay upright. But she was hesitant to look up into the face of whoever it was that still held a steady grip on her upper arm. Laura was having flashbacks of a sour girl with dark hair and a red Corvette, and wasn’t sure if she had the current emotional stability of being told off in a similar fashion.

But the hand that had been holding her bicep travelled down to come to a gentle rest above her wrist. It struck Laura as a strangely intimate gesture, and the same must’ve gone for the other person because they quickly withdrew their touch. Laura only looked up when she heard the other person beginning to laugh—and was forced to look even further up as she realized that her savior was a girl that almost doubled her own height.

The next things that Laura noticed were her bright red hair and, behind her, a gaggle of girls wearing their uniform skirts higher up their thighs than Laura was sure was decent. Just her luck: this girl in front of whom Laura had just mortified herself was pretty and evidently popular.

“You okay?” asked the girl, swallowing a giggle. “You’re looking a little red there.”

“Yeah,” Laura choked out a laugh, “Sorry. I kind of—”

“Spaced out?” the girl offered, and a grin spread across her face. It was infectious.

“That’s a nice word for it, sure.” Laura tried to smile back and reached up to adjust her headband and brush down any out-of-place hair. “Sorry, again. Thank you for, you know, not letting me, uh—”

“Wipe out. Of course, don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”

Laura side-stepped the girl and began to head for the front doors again. She kept her head down to avoid anyone’s gaze, but heard the girl behind her say something softly to her friends. Then there were hurried footsteps, and soon Laura felt the other girl’s shoulder brush her own as she caught up.

“You’re not from around here, right?” the girl asked.

Laura looked up, up, up to meet her eyes. She was sure her face must’ve looked sunburnt from how hot it felt. “No, I’m not actually.”

“I figured, I’m sure I would’ve seen you around before. Freshmen?”

“Yeah,” Laura said, feeling her heart rise in her chest. “You?”

The other girl snorted. Laura’s heart sank right back down to her stomach where it had started. “Nah, I’m a junior. But you weren’t here last week, were you?” At Laura’s surprised look and shake of her head, she continued, “I’m actually the junior class president. Me and the other class presidents went around freshmen homerooms last week to introduce ourselves.” She stopped to hold open the front door for Laura, and they stepped into the front office together. “Like I said, I would’ve noticed you.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice of you to say.” Laura was unable to keep herself from blushing. But considering how red she’d started off being, she wasn’t really afraid of the other girl noticing this. She stopped at the front desk. “Well, uh, thank you…”

“Danny,” the other girl supplemented.

“Danny,” Laura repeated around a grin. An awkward silence. Danny looked at her expectantly.

“… And you are…?”

“Oh! Laura. I’m Laura,” she laughed, a little too loudly, and shoved her hand forward. Some people in the front office stopped to look around at her. She blushed insufferably harder as Danny grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. When they’d released one another, Laura scanned her gaze awkwardly down to look at their feet; Danny was wearing saddle shoes, too. “Anyway, I’ve got to grab my schedule and find my first class.”

“Do you need help finding it?” Danny asked. “I mean, they give you a map, but the school can be a little hard to figure out. I could walk you there.”

“That would be great!” Laura nodded sharply, unable to contain a wide smile.

Danny grinned back at her. Her teeth were stick straight and impossibly white.

\---

When Laura finally sat in an empty desk in her first period English class, she felt as if she’d already completed an entire day. Her interaction with Danny left her embarrassed (since, you know, the almost-plowing-her-down debacle), crestfallen (at Danny’s reviewing her schedule and finding no classes in common, not even lunch), and simultaneously warm-hearted (at Danny’s insistence that she’d “see her around”); ultimately, Laura felt emotionally spent.

Yet class began anyway. She was graciously spared the “We have a new student today” speech and forced introduction by her teacher in this first period, but Laura wasn’t confident she wouldn’t be subject to it in later classes. She sat in the back of the room to avoid attention, but Laura noticed some students stretching around in their seats to briefly look back at her as the teacher began to pass around worksheets.

“Honestly, it’s kind of a small town,” Danny had told her as she walked her to class. “I don’t expect a lot of upperclassmen to notice you’re new, but maybe a couple of freshmen will.” She smiled reassuringly down at Laura then. “Don’t sweat it.”

This had made Laura’s chest feel considerably less tight, and when the teacher began to lecture and all students turned their attention back to the front of the room, she knew that Danny must be right.

Only five minutes later, however, a girl with brown hair pulled back with a ribbon entered the classroom. She handed the teacher a folded, yellow piece of paper. After unfolding it and scanning its contents, the teacher nodded at the girl and said, “Laura Hollis?” as she surveyed the classroom.

Laura shakily raised her hand a little. “Here?” It came out as a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Here.”

“Please follow Sarah Jane here to the front office,” the teacher said as she leaned over her desk to make a note on a legal pad. “Don’t bring your things, you’ll be back soon.”

Laura did as she was told, getting up so quickly that her desk shifted; it made a loud sound as it grated against the linoleum floor. Keeping her eyes trained on the front of the room and walking quickly, she was soon following the girl with the hair ribbon out the door and down the hallway.

“Call me S.J.,” the girl uttered. Laura expected idle chitchat, but S.J. said nothing else until they had arrived at the front of the school. “Do you know which door is the front office?” Laura nodded. “Okay, sit in the chairs around the corner from the front desk. I need to go get someone else from class. See you.”

Feeling a little relieved about S.J.’s quiet demeanor and, subsequently, lack of probing questions, Laura entered the front office in a mood that was far less tense than what she’d felt only minutes ago. She went around the corner behind the front desk, and sat in one of three plastic chairs outside of a closed door. She picked at the hem of her skirt with her fingers as she stared around the room, becoming lost in thought as she looked at pictures of sports teams and committees and clubs.

She was thinking about how she wished she didn’t have to go back to her English class after this—whatever this was—was finished because she already felt embarrassed about being called out of class and it would only make it worse having to _reenter_ it and walk down the alley between desks to get back to her seat and knowing, just knowing, that everyone would stare at her as she passed them when, all of a sudden, she stopped mid-thought. Her eyes had landed on the little plaque on the door in front of which she was waiting, and Laura leaned forward to see the letters on it more clearly.

It read, “Office of Principal Morgan.”

And the contents of Laura’s insides immediately turned to ice. A phone rang in the distance somewhere, and Laura was left with barely any time to truly comprehend that she was waiting to talk to _the principal_ when a stout lady came from behind the corner, said, “Principal Morgan is ready to see you now, you can go inside,” and promptly retreated.

Laura stood on shaky knees and walked to the door, raising her fist to knock softly on the wood.

“Come in.” It was barely audible, but Laura grabbed the door knob, turned it, and slowly shuffled in. Sitting at the desk was a woman looking down at an open file folder and shifting around papers. She wore a dark—but elegant—suit and had her sandy hair pulled back into a tight French twist. “Please, sit down, Miss Hollis,” Principal Morgan said as she waved her hand absentmindedly at a single wooden chair that faced her desk. Laura left the door open and did as she was told, sitting primly with her ankles crossed and hands folded in her lap.

There were a couple seconds of silence as the older woman continued to read from the stack of papers in the folder in front of her. Laura tried to smile, and said with all the confidence she could muster, “That’s not mine, is it?” She gave an awkward chuckle that immediately died in her throat as Principal Morgan glanced up at her. Her eyes were a very light blue and emotionless.

“No.”

And then there was more uncomfortable silence. The woman continued to stare at Laura until she gave a second attempt at a chuckle and said, more self-conscious this time, “Sorry, of course, I was…” Laura stopped to clear her throat. Then she decided it wasn’t worth it to continue the sentence.

To Laura’s surprise, the corners of Principal Morgan’s lips twitched in what she supposed was the woman’s version of a smile. “Well,” Principal Morgan said as she restacked the papers, sat up straight, and focused her intense gaze entirely on Laura. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Miss Hollis. I called you in this morning to welcome you to Silas and to let you know that if you have any questions at any time to not hesitate to make an appointment to see me.”

“Oh,” Laura sighed out the tiniest breath of relief—she wasn’t in trouble. “Well, thank you, ma’am.” When Principal Morgan simply persisted in glowering at her in lieu of responding, she added, “I don’t have any questions right now, but absolutely, uh, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I have taken a look at your file,” Principal Morgan said as she leaned across her desk to grab a different folder, “which, graciously, is considerably less full than the one I was just reviewing.” She stopped talking and looked at Laura expectantly, which the girl took as a cue to laugh. She did, and Principal Morgan looked satisfied. She continued, “You’ve done remarkably well in English classes, I’ve noticed. Do you particularly enjoy the language arts, or are you merely adept at them?”

The change of subject matter confused Laura and for a moment she thought the principal might have said what she did sarcastically. After a moment, Laura spluttered, “Uh, yes. I mean, I do enjoy them. I like to write.”

“Would you perhaps be interested in writing during some of your free time?”

“Sure. I mean, yes, ma’am. But, uh—” Laura swallowed “—I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Our institution’s daily publication, _The Voice_ _of Silas_ , has a position that needs filling.”

It took a minute for Laura to understand what Principal Morgan was offering, but once she did she couldn’t help but grin. “Really? I could write for the newspaper?”

“It’s rather a type of newsletter. With the exception of Fridays, on which days we have a thicker weekend issue that more closely resembles a newspaper. But yes, _really_ ,” Principal Morgan actually smirked at this, “the position is yours if you want it. I have read samples of your papers that your teachers have sent from your previous institution, and you seem capable of fitting it. More importantly, I think it would be an extracurricular that would particularly suit you. Administration wants to make your transition to Silas as seamless and, in layman’s terms, as nice as possible.”

“Wow. Yes! I’d love to take it,” Laura beamed. At the principal’s standing from her chair, Laura did the same.

“Excellent,” Principal Morgan said. She picked up a pen to write something on a legal pad, tore the page from its binding, and handed it to Laura. “I have written down the classroom at which the other students involved in _The Voice_ meet. You are to go there immediately following classes today and speak to William Luce, whose name I’ve also noted.”

“Today?”

Principal Morgan walked around the desk towards the open door and looked back at Laura. No smile remained on her face, and Laura abruptly no longer felt warmth in her chest. “Will that be a problem for you?”

“No!” Laura said quickly. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

“Good. It was my pleasure to meet you. Good luck with your semester.” Principal Morgan stood aside, holding the door handle as Laura passed her. In a suddenly different, colder voice, she said. “And I hope not to see you in here too often, Miss Hollis.”

Laura couldn’t bring herself to look Principal Morgan in the eyes. To say a departing “thanks again” is all Laura could do, turning her back on the woman as she did so. Laura did not hear the door close until she’d rounded the corner. Goosebumps still erect on her skin, she headed to the front desk and approached the little woman sitting there. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, could I use the phone up here? It’ll only take a minute.”

\---

Laura had called her father to ask if she could stay late at school, to which he had first responded with terror in his voice. “Laura, what happened?” he had asked. “Tell me you didn’t get in trouble.”

Once Laura had explained the situation about meeting with Principal Morgan and her offering her a position on the student newspaper staff, Mr. Hollis’s initial reaction subsided. “Sugar, that’s fantastic!” Mr. Hollis had gushed. “What did I tell you? You’re already fitting right in!” He gave his permission and told his daughter that he would come pick her up at four o’clock instead. “And if it runs late, don’t you rush, sugar. I’ll wait.”

Laura didn’t tell her father how eerie the meeting itself had been. This was partially because she had heard the panic in his voice at the idea that she’d already received detention; she couldn’t imagine how much her uneasiness would worry him. But her keeping information from Mr. Hollis was also due in part to Laura’s insecurity that nothing strange had transpired at the meeting at all. Principal Morgan was certainly intense, but she hadn’t actually done or said anything to justify Laura feeling uncomfortable. Maybe she was just nervous about meeting the highest authority at a brand new school. Maybe she had leftover jitters about how awkward her morning had already been that Laura had merely projected them on their interaction.

Either way, Laura spared her father these details. After hanging up the phone and thanking the woman at the front desk, she returned to her classroom. And aside from her strange interaction with Principal Morgan, the rest of Laura’s school day passed rather uneventfully.

She returned to English, where Laura was delighted to see that her reentrance caused no additional staring from her classmates. She was able to blend in and avoid being noticed entirely during most of her remaining classes because, with the students in these classes being from all grade levels, everyone seemed to assume that Laura was from some class that wasn’t their own. This was largely a relief aside from Laura not having anyone with whom to sit and eat lunch—but she spent that time amongst shelves of books in the library instead, so she didn’t consider it a complete embarrassment.

It wasn’t until Laura’s final class of the day—algebra—that she garnered a particular amount of attention. Upon entering the classroom, Laura made a beeline for a desk in the back of the class, as she’d been doing all day to avoid being made easy to notice by her peers. And it had, once again, worked.

At least, it had worked initially. Laura had set to work opening a math textbook that she had retrieved from below her seat when the teacher, who had been reading out names from his attendance sheet, stopped after announcing “Hill comma Elsie” and receiving a “Here” in response. Laura—who had been listening for her own name and practicing in her mind how to best say that she was present without sounding stupid—felt her heartbeat quicken in anticipation.

Laura knew her name was next even before her teacher breathed out noisily in frustration. “Hollis comma Laura? This is new.” He picked his head up from the list and surveyed the classroom; his coke-bottle glasses making his eyes look like those of a flighty, buzzing insect. “Which one of you is Hollis comma Laura?”

She considered not raising her hand for a moment, thinking of an alternative route in approaching him after class and explaining. But Laura must have had a target on her forehead, because the teacher’s magnified eyes fell on hers almost instantly.

“You,” he said, waving his hand in her direction, finger outstretched in a lazy point. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you Hollis comma Laura?” Left with no other choice, Laura was forced to nod. “What were you waiting for, then? Please stand and introduce yourself!”

Laura stood from her chair, but continued to lean her hip onto it as extra support. Her mouth having gone dry, Laura had to swallow a few times to be able to speak. “My name is Laura Hollis. Uh…” She looked at the teacher for any signs of encouragement. He just looked annoyed. “I’m fifteen years old?”

When she didn’t continue, the teacher asked, “Where are you from? What are your interests?”

“Oh. Tacoma. And…” What were her interests? Laura couldn’t remember a single one of them. She stared at her teacher imploringly.

“Just sit down, then.” Laura did. The teacher picked up a piece of chalk and wrote his name—Mr. O’Connor—in the corner of the blackboard. “In case you don’t remember later,” he said simply. There were sniggers from various points in the classroom.

As Mr. O’Connor continued doing roll call, Laura put her elbows on her desk and buried her hot face in her hands. As she pinched the bridge of her nose, she could feel something shift to the right of her.

“Hey,” someone whispered. Laura peeked out from behind her hands and looked to her right. A girl with tight, red curls had leant from her desk across the aisle. Her bright eyes were concentrated on Mr. O’Connor, but glanced briefly back at Laura. “Don’t be too bugged. He’s like that to everybody. He’s kind of a—” she paused to look around “—scuzz.”

A huge grin broke out on the other girl’s face. Laura was about to return it when Mr. O’Connor barked out, “Perry comma Lola,” and the girl whipped around in her seat and said, confidently and formally, “Present.” Her smile had vanished, replaced with a set of pursed lips.

Halfway through class, Mr. O’Connor instructed the students to work in groups on a problem written on the board. Laura couldn’t resist a small smile when the red-haired girl turned to her immediately.

“Hi,” she said enthusiastically, holding out her hand. Laura took it, and the other girl gave it a few eager pumps before releasing it. “Lola Perry. My friends call me Perry.”

“Laura Hollis,” she replied. “My friends call me Laura.”

Perry giggled heartily and bent over her notebook to begin working. Though her eyebrows had already become bunched in concentration, she spoke from the corner of her mouth, “How’s your first day been?”

Laura was just short of replying truthfully—“Besides my making myself look like a spaz at every opportunity, it’s been fine”—when a long shadow was cast over her desk. Looking above herself in the aisle between her and Perry, Laura found a tall boy. He wore a letterman jacket over his school uniform; Laura recognized him as the boy with the motorcycle from that morning.

“Hey, doll,” he said, looking over Perry’s shoulder. He quickly glanced over at Laura and beamed. “And new doll! Welcome to Nowheresville.”

Without breaking her eyes away from her work, Perry sighed, “Yes, Wilson?”

“Hey, not cool.” His ears turned red. Turning back to Laura, he said, “The name’s Kirsch. What’s your handle, again?”

Laura was about to tell him her name—at least a little grateful that not all of her classmates were entirely attentive to her moment of embarrassment—when she was once again interrupted.

“Do you need something, _Kirsch_?” Perry said, this time spending the energy to look up at him.

“Oh, yeah! Would you help me again? You know I never understand this junk.”

“And by ‘help,’ you mean…?”

“I’ll give you two bucks to do my homework again.”

“Wilson—”

“Come on, dollface, it’s—”

“Kirsch,” Perry huffed. “No. I don’t think it’s right to keep doing your assignments for you. You don’t actually learn that way.”

“ _Please_ , I’m begging you.” Kirsch sank to his knees and grabbed Perry’s hand. Perry swiveled her head in every direction before looking back at him; her face was turning a shade to rival the redness of her curls. “If I don’t pass this class, I’m getting kicked out of football. Just do it this week and that’ll give me time to catch up and then I’ll never ask you again.”

“Catch up? It’s only the second week of school! How did—”

“Three dollars.”

There was a moment’s silence until Mr. O’Connor cleared his throat and said, without a sliver of malice in his voice, “Mr. Kirsch? Perhaps you should return to your seat.”

Kirsch turned his head to Mr. O’Connor and grinned toothily. “Sure thing, teach! I’ll be right there.”

Laura had to admit to herself that his smile was charming, and Mr. O’Connor must have shared her sentiment because he smiled back and returned to scanning the classroom with his oversized eyes.

“Think about it,” Kirsch said finally. He winked at Perry as he stood, and did the same to Laura as he turned to walk back down the aisle. “Later, little chick.”

After he had gone, Laura turned her head to look back at Perry—who was staring after Kirsch with her lips pursed so tightly, it looked like she was sipping from a straw. They relaxed slightly when her eyes darted back to Laura. Perry continued writing in her notebook as she said, “As I was saying, how’s your day going so far?”

\---

Through their continued conversation in algebra, Laura had learned that Perry was on the Silas newspaper as well. “That’s such a relief!” Laura had said. “I won’t be going in alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Laura,” Perry groaned around a sympathetic frown. “I’m not going to be there tonight. I do the fashion column, and that’s only in the Friday paper. So you won’t see me until the Thursday afternoon meeting.”

“You do the fashion column?” Laura repeated. With everyone wearing school uniforms, she hadn’t noticed if Perry was particularly fashionable. She was, Laura supposed, wearing a pretty shade of lipstick and matching nail polish—but much past that, nothing noteworthy.

The corners of Perry’s lips twitched downward. “Well, it’s one of the only columns that they’ll let girls have,” she’d said quietly. The bell releasing them from class had rung then, and as the two girls stood and collected their things, Perry continued: “Here, let me walk you to the room.”

As they walked together, Perry had explained to Laura that most of her installments to the newspaper were more about how to get stains out of clothes as opposed to what clothes were actually fashionable. “Honestly,” Perry seethed, now speaking more quickly. “They should have switched my and Betty’s assignments. I love learning about the best way to get scuffs off of my patent leather shoes as much as the next person—” this being said with no hint of sarcasm, Laura noticed.

But then Perry suddenly stopped talking.

Laura waited a minute before asking, “What column does Betty do?”

“Well.” Perry stopped again. Even for only knowing Perry for a grand total of one hour, this fractured speech pattern seemed unusual to Laura. “She used to do the advice column.” Then she changed the subject.

As Perry elaborated on how she’d never heard of a female student writing a daily feature before, let alone a female student in the freshmen class doing so—“I mean, I’m a junior and I have been limited to the Friday issue since I joined _The Voice_. That’s not to say you don’t deserve it, of course!”—Laura felt a warmth that radiated from her chest. She never thought she was that good of a writer. However uneasy Principal Morgan had made her before, Laura thought perhaps she’d misjudged her.

“Here it is.” Perry abruptly stopped walking to indicate a closed door, gesturing towards it with her hand like a stewardess. “Will is going to be boy in there who has the biggest head.” She glanced back at Laura and gave her a secretive smile.

“Thanks, Perry,” she said, leaning forward to hug her.

Perry, though initially still, returned Laura’s embrace with a quick, tight squeeze. “You’re welcome.” As they pulled away, she raised her eyebrows. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?”

Laura nodded exuberantly. “Sure thing!” Then she waited to watch Perry wave goodbye and disappear from sight around a hallway corner before opening the door.

“You’re late,” came a voice before Laura had even completely stepped into the room. It was a boy who spoke, with dark, coiffed hair and sharp features.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realized.” Laura sputtered for a moment. She looked at the clock on the wall, which read a minute past the hour. Surely, he must be kidding with her.

When his face didn’t break into a smile, a brick began to form in Laura’s stomach. She glanced around the room, making eye contact with the several other students in there. They were all male.

“Which one of you is Will?”

The boy who had spoken nodded his head. “That’s me. Sit down, baby, and I’ll explain this to you.”

Heat crawling across her cheeks, Laura noticed all the boys were standing. She sat on the edge of a table instead of in a chair; when her skirt creeped half of an inch up her thigh, she grabbed its hem and held it taut in place.

Will returned with a shoebox, which he pushed at Laura. As she took it and was preparing to ask about its contents, he began to pace. “You have deadlines every Monday through Friday afternoon to be put into the next day’s issue. Since we’ll make your first deadline tomorrow, your column will start being published on Wednesday. Now if you want, you can do a week’s worth ahead of time and turn it all in only once a week, but that’s really your choice. Although, I suggest doing that—you know, no sense in your coming by more often than is necessary.” A leer began to form on Will’s face. “For _your_ sake, of course.

“There’s a backup of letters to be responded to, so pull from those until you start receiving ones addressed to you specifically. Which reminds me—” Will stopped to grab something from behind Laura, whose breath caught in her throat at his sudden movement. She released it when she saw his hand pulling back, holding a legal pad. He placed in on the table across from her and poised a pen in his grip over it. “What’s your locker number?”

All eyes turned to Laura. “… I’m sorry, I’m confused.” She heard a ripple of soft laughter throughout the room. “What feature will I be writing, exactly?”

Will smiled kindly, but his eyes remained hardened and sharp. He spoke slowly now. “You’re doing the advice column, baby.”

\---

By the time Laura had finally left the classroom, walked down the stairs, and pushed through the front doors of the school, she felt like a smaller version of herself. The shoebox in her grasp made her want to wash her hands. But the biggest kick in the stomach was when her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight and the car parked in front of the curb was not her Dad’s station wagon.

It was a cherry red Corvette. On its hood sat a familiar, dark-haired girl. She had her legs—clad in black capri pants—spread out in front of her, leaning back and with a cigarette poised in front of her mouth.

Laura was positive that the girl was staring at her from behind her dark sunglasses. She was so sure of this, in fact, and so done with the day she’d just had that she stared straight back at her. Laura was working herself up to stomp over and say something, _anything_ , when she felt a hand grip her shoulder. She jumped and whipped her head around, all bad tension leaving her body when she saw who it was.

“Danny,” she breathed out as she felt her face break into a grin. “Hey!”

“Hey, you,” Danny replied, smiling too. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me, too! How did your day go?”

“It was a regular blast. More importantly, how did _your_ day go?” Danny lifted her hand to drum her fingernails on the shoebox in Laura’s hand. “What’s this?”

“Oh, those are letters.” Laura couldn’t help the dejected tone in her voice. “I took over the daily advice column.”

Danny’s eyes widened. Laura noticed that they were such a clear blue. “You’re taking over ‘Bash Ears with Betty’? That’s so _weird_.”

“Yeah,” Laura sighed. “I mean, they said I should rename it to be something with my own name. Apparently it was so popular last year that they just now decided to make it a daily feature. Which, is great and all, but—”

“No, that’s not what—I mean, Laura, that’s fantastic for you—but what I meant is that I can’t believe they’re still doing the column at all.”

“Oh.” Laura shifted the shoebox uncomfortably in her arms. “Why’s that?”

“It was, like, Betty’s thing. Of course I’m sure you totally deserve it and obviously you didn’t ask for this, so it’s not your fault. I don’t know. I just think it’s a little disrespectful of _The Voice_ to do.”

Lost for words, Laura just stared at Danny for a moment. “Oh. Uh. Wait—” She swallowed and dropped her gaze, staring at the concrete beneath their feet. “—I don’t understand. Why is it disrespectful?”

Danny brought the heel of her hand up to her forehead, giving it a thump as she clenched her eyes shut. “You don’t know. Of course you don’t know, you just got here.” She opened her eyes and dropped her hand, looking Laura so steadily in the eye it almost made her uneasy. “Betty went missing right before summer.”

“ _Missing_?” Laura repeated. She gripped the shoebox tightly to her chest and lowered her voice, remembering the presence of the dark-haired girl not too far from them. “Like, _kidnapped_?”

“That’s the thing, no one really knows.” A low, conspiratorial tone seeps into Danny’s voice. “I didn’t know Betty very well, but I know that she used to run away from home all the time. She’d be gone from school for days at a time. But she would always come back.” She shrugged her shoulders. “They just thought she ran away at first, and by the time her parents realized that she’d been gone longer than she’d ever been gone before and reported her missing, there wasn’t too much the fuzz could do. Most folks around here have written it off as a runaway situation. But I don’t know.”

“That’s horrible.” Laura’s heart tightened. What would happen to her dad if she ever disappeared? She couldn’t imagine how Betty’s parents felt.

“Yeah, it is.” There was a moment of silence. Then Danny moved to push a lock of her red hair behind her ear. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Laura, confused, shook her head. “Why would you be sorry?”

“For bumming you out. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about the paper or anything. I think that’s really amazing that they let you on it at all, let alone as a daily thing! That’s pretty much a boy’s club.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t bum me out!” And Laura meant this. “To be honest, I was kind of feeling bad about it before you even told me about any of this.”

Danny’s face looked questioning at first, but then it morphed into understanding. “Will Luce?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Laura gasped. “He’s _awful_. So—”

“Condescending? Yeah, he’s a snap case. You’ll get used to it.”

_Snap case_. Laura glanced over her shoulder and saw that the dark-haired girl was still on her car, now putting out her cigarette on the sole of her sandal. Behind her, Laura could see her dad’s station wagon pulling up. Mr. Hollis was already waving at her.

“That’s my dad.” She looked up again at Danny and scrunched her nose. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Right on.” Danny waved as Laura turned to go, but then said, “Wait!” Laura did, and watched as Danny unslung her bag, pulled out a pen, and reached out to grab Laura’s shoebox, beginning to scribble on its top. “This is my phone number. Give me a bell this week, any time before nine at night. That’s went my rents go to bed. Oh! And on any day except for Wednesdays, that’s when I have my Summer Society meetings.” She handed the box back, which Laura accepted in a daze.

Once she finally got in the car, Mr. Hollis began instantly. “Hi, sugar! How was your day? How was your meeting? Did you make any friends?”

As Laura waved out the window at Danny as her father pulled the car away from the curb, she felt a lightness in her chest at her not having to lie about his last question at least.

When Laura peeked in the rearview mirror to watch Danny walk away, she noticed the dark-haired girl’s head swivel, watching her and her father as they pulled out of the parking lot.

\---

There was a typewriter sitting on Laura’s vanity when she got back home.

“ _Dad_!” she squealed as she ran down the hall, tackling her father with a hug. He was expecting it, evident in his waiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing in such a way that no furniture impeded Laura’s path.

“That’s why I was late picking you up! I hope you can forgive me. Do you like it?”

Laura did, she  _really_ did. She liked it so much that she raced through dinner and hurried to get back to her room, closing her door as she went. She didn’t walk away from the machine once—writing self-descriptive phrases (“My name is Laura. I am fifteen years old.”) and practicing French (“Je m’appelle Laura. J’ai quinze ans.”) and whatever else would come to her mind—until Mr. Hollis knocked on her door around ten o’clock and wished her good night.

It was at that point that Laura finally decided to put her new typewriter into a more productive use. She pulled the shoebox of letters into her lap and selected the first piece of folded paper in the pile.

_Dear, Betty. I share all of my classes with the boy of my dreams. But he doesn’t even know exist. How can I successfully get him to ask me out on a date? Sincerely, Hopeless in Love_

A groan emanated from Laura’s throat. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

An hour later, Laura snuck into the living room to grab leftover newspapers from the previous few days; if ‘Dear Abby’ couldn’t inspire her, nothing could. But while flipping through their pages, Laura happened upon a familiar picture. It was of the blonde girl wearing her school uniform. This time, Laura took the time to read the headline.

_Elizabeth Spielsdorf still missing, police declare case cold_

She took extra time staring at Betty’s picture. She was very pretty.

Laura decided to go to bed then; finishing her column could wait until tomorrow.

Nightgown on and lights off, Laura passed by her window and opened it as she clicked the air conditioning unit off. She stayed still a few more moments, listening. She heard no laughter, no sound outside of the chirping of crickets.

Even after crawling under the covers and even without outside disturbances, Laura stayed awake for hours staring at her ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This post is now twenty-four hours late, so thank you for sticking around! The update schedule is (already) changing; new chapters will now be posted every other Friday evening. Expect the next chapter on July 24, 2015!
> 
> For an explanation and to keep up with this story and updates, track "#carmilla 1960s au" and "#tell laura i love her" on Tumblr. You can also follow my story-specific blog @ http://carmilla1960sau.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Friday between 6:00p and 8:00p (MST). Keep up with this story by tracking "#carmilla 1960s au" and "#tell laura i love her" on Tumblr.
> 
> A beta might be appreciated; inquire @ http://carmilla1960sau.tumblr.com/


End file.
